The judge listened with a neutral expression, but it was clear he sensed the deeper conflict between Enrico and me—an old, personal war bleeding into this legal one. The air felt heavy with unsaid history.
After a few more brief arguments, the judge cleared his throat and signaled for attention.
“Having considered the statements presented and the immediate best interests of the minor child, Clara Muniz, this court orders that temporary custody shall remain with the mother, Ms. Valentina Muniz, while this matter proceeds.” His voice was calm but final. “However, Mr. Enrico Ferrara shall have frequent visitation, on a schedule set by this court. Neither party may remove the child from the city or relocate without express court authorization.” He paused. “This matter is sealed. Any breach of confidentiality will be dealt with severely.”
I exhaled sharply, relief flooding me—only to be immediately followed by dread.
It was temporary.
And I knew Enrico would not accept it as the end.
When I glanced to the side, I saw his expression: hardened. Gray eyes narrowed. Dangerous.
He’d expected this decision, I was sure.
But that didn’t mean he was satisfied.
This wasn’t over.
We both knew it.
When the judge officially ended the hearing, people began to stand. I grabbed my bag with shaking hands, still absorbing what had just happened, when Enrico’s imposing presence appeared beside me.
“Enjoy your temporary victory, Valentina,” he murmured, cold and low, close enough that I caught his subtle, expensive cologne. “It won’t last.”
I lifted my face and held his gaze with everything I had left.
“I will never let you take my daughter from me, Enrico,” I said, voice steady, eyes blazing.
He stepped closer—eyes hard, dangerous—and answered in a low tone that sounded almost intimate… and even more threatening.
“I don’t want just my daughter, Valentina.” His gaze burned into me. “I want everything.”
A sick chill traced my spine.
I heard the second meaning underneath the first.
His eyes held me—intense, disturbing—before he stepped away, leaving me stunned, shaken, and—against my will—painfully aware of him as a man again.
I forced myself to breathe as I walked out of the courtroom, already sensing that this “temporary win” might be nothing but the prelude to something much worse.
Outside, Júlia was waiting, anxious. She rushed to me the second she saw my face.
“So?” she asked. “How did it go?”
“I bought a little time,” I whispered, voice trembling. “But I don’t think it’s going to last. Enrico won’t stop, Júlia.” I swallowed. “And now… now it feels bigger. Worse.”
Júlia took my hand, firm and grounding, though worry lived in her eyes too.
“Then we prepare for the worst,” she said. “No matter what happens, you’re not facing this alone.”
I nodded, chest tight, as one question echoed through my mind with a dark, relentless certainty:
What would Enrico Ferrara do next?
TWENTY-TWO
VALENTINA MUNIZ
